Sunday, June 28, 2009

But what do you do if there are nothing but dark clouds, ominous, rolling in. Lower and lower, literally falling to 20 feet above the ground. Every peal of thunder and every ring of the telephone, bringing more destructive forces beyond our imagination and control, shaking and uprooting what comes in their path.

As this masive, thunderous storm struck out at Long Island I was hit by two severe economic jolts, shaking my house, and the future of my home, to their foundations in every sense.

There was no single dark cloud with a silver lining. This was as bright as the evening was going to get, deep soul-chilling darkness, rolling in right behind, above, within and all around the ominous clouds.

In the distance, not Silver but a Gold lining, above Fire Island. So close, but just far enough not to save the sinking ship of drowning dreams.

And soon even that ray of hope, lining of Gold, the sliver of remaining faith, first glistening with promise, then dulled and eventually overcome by the sheer forces of darkness, disappeared from view, leaving a uniform dark shroud... Fade To Grey.

No man is an island, but with dreams on fire, and a storm above, even the strongest resolve can be shaken. The pain. The loss. The efforts and work of a lifetime, lost in the process.

I know, this is nothing. It will get worse. Much worse. It could always be even worse, and I am thankful I have all that I have within me, a gift of God.

I shall rebuild. I have no choice. I shall rise again. Because that is who I am. And shall remain as long as I live. So help me God.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

During my recent trip to Islamabad, Pakistan, my friends and I took a detour to go see a newly developed Rawal Lake Park (on the other side of where the Dam is and where I had been to, as a teen, with my father).

We enjoyed a nice walk, beautiful sights, and I was able to catch this illusively 3D image of a hazy sunset over the mountains around Islamabad, a city of political illusions, facing huge obstacles all around it.

Night was falling, but I knew, a new day was just around the corner for me, for the park, for the city, for Pakistan.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Just before heavy rains hit Long Island, despite the dark, stormy skies, this splendid image, of splendor in the grass, an inviting yellow door frame, promising brightness just yonder, framed by the trunk-like trees of tree trunks caught my eye. The red, yellow, green colors were a coincidence I did notice.

Monday, June 22, 2009

The bright heavy setting sun on June 14, 2009 seemed floating in air. It sat just near the end of the bowardwalk, at Smith Point Park beach, just beyond the signs for the TWA Flight 800 Memorial, like an easy stairway to heaven.

Here we are on earth, walking or flying, thinking we own it, yet we are so insignificant.

One tiny wobble of that white orb in the sky and we are all history. Even if it remains perfectly aligned forever, we are certain to be history.

So many voices that had walked these paths, these stairways, before us. All gone, as we one day will. Some of them are remembered, many forgotten; lost, first to memories, then to history, and then to eternity. Would we be remembered? And, why?

Theres a feeling I getWhen I look to the west,And my spirit is crying for leaving.In my thoughts I have seenRings of smoke through the trees,And the voices of those who stand looking

It seemed so easy to reach, yet so far away. It felt burning hot in a cold blue sky.

It inspired me to experiment with this picture and the words of Stairway To Heaven just seemed so appropriate....

It made me wonder, it makes me wonder, and it will always make me wonder.